


The Songbird's Tongue Is Sweet

by ClydeThistles



Series: Victorian Music Hall AU - Yennaia [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Flash Fic, Gay Panic, Light Smut, Tipping the Velvet vibes, Yennaia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClydeThistles/pseuds/ClydeThistles
Summary: Sequel to 'Of Buttons and Petticoats'.Tissaia goes into gay panic mode, Yennefer gives her what she seeks.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Victorian Music Hall AU - Yennaia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905364
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	The Songbird's Tongue Is Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> So the flash challenge is over but there were requests to continue this AU with some smut. This is just a teaser, the true smut should be out in the next installment. For now, enjoy some good old-fashioned gay panic!

Tissaia’s heart leaps and then sinks horribly when she sees who has made the bell above the door ring. It is Yennefer and she looks angry. It has been just over three weeks since she first walked into the shop and Tissaia had spent nearly every night at the halls, helping her dress, chatting to one another, sharing cigarettes. But one night, Tissaia had caught herself removing Yennefer’s shirt rather than simply unbuttoning it and leaving. She’d pulled it from her and been about to unwind the binding round her breasts but had stopped herself just in time. Tissaia has not been back since and Yennefer appears to have taken her absence to heart.

“Have I offended you in some way, madam?”

“There’s no need for such formality, Yennefer, I can-”

“Have I offended you? Do I displease you? I may be a low-down music hall artiste but even I know it is bad manners to cease contact with no explanation or forewarning. We have not seen you at the halls for nigh on ten days and my letters have gone unanswered. The logical conclusion is that I have done you some great injustice. As I find it hard to believe that you would be so ungenteel as to cut me off in this way. Or have I misjudged you?”

Tissaia sighs and wrings her hands anxiously, “You have not. I own it, I have acted in poor taste, and it shames me. But it was a necessary evil, I could not… it would not have been wise to continue our association. The fault is mine; you are blameless but please, I must ask you to leave. And not to return or-”

Her voice dies in her throat as Yennefer comes round behind the counter and steps towards her, far too close for her intentions to be misread. Tissaia flicks her eyes away and pleads,

“Please! I must insist… you can’t, we mustn’t!”

Yennefer reaches out and takes her hand by the wrist holding it firmly, “What must we not do? Tissaia, look at me.”

Tissaia shuts her eyes tightly, her head turned away, “I cannot. Do not make me. I beg of you, leave me be!”

Yennefer’s grip tightens and for a moment Tissaia thinks she will force her to open her eyes, that she will shove her against the shelves and… and do what? God forgive her, she has pictured what Yennefer might do to her but Tissaia has never imagined these fantasies brought to life. It seems impossible to her that such a passion, such… intimacy could exist in the real world. It is depraved, wicked, unnatural and it makes her tremble with fear as much as with desire when she thinks on it. To her relief (tinged with disappointment) Yennefer releases her and steps away.

“I do not mean to cause you distress. I shall go, and I will not look for you again.” She looks back at Tissaia just before she opens the door, “If you would find me though, you know where I am. You will be welcome should you wish to resume your visits.”

When the door shuts behind Yennefer, Tissaia releases the breath she has been holding, clutching at her solar plexus and leaning on the counter to steady herself. She will not, she cannot, allow herself to return to the halls. She must forget Yennefer and this foolish, dangerous notion of wanting to taste those long butterscotch fingers in her mouth.

Tissaia prides herself on being a temperate, disciplined individual. Which is why the only explanation for her being stood outside that cream door again is that she is not herself. That Yennefer has bewitched her and taken hold of her senses. She opens the door when invited to and shuts it behind her, leaning against it, trapping her hands behind her back to hide that they are shaking. Yennefer looks up from the washstand where she has just finished rinsing the pomade from her hair and towelling it dry, her short black locks now free to twist into their natural waves rather than being slicked back. A curl has fallen over her forehead and water beads along the lines where her clipped hair meets her skin at her temples and neck. She has succeeded in removing her collar unaided and it makes Tissaia sad for some reason. Her shirtsleeves are rolled up and her waistcoat and tails removed but she is still in her trousers, her shirt still fastened and the binding beneath it just visible through the starched cotton. If she is surprised to see Tissaia, she does not show it and carefully removes the towel from her shoulders before drying her hands and standing very still. Tissaia needs her to step forward, to take control, to give her what she cannot ask for. But Yennefer waits, watching her intently. Tissaia swallows to push her heart back down her throat and into her chest then removes her gloves and unpins her hat purposefully. She sets them aside and leans back against the door again, her eyes dark and chest heaving. Summoning what is left of her mental faculties she invites in a breathless voice,

“Kiss me.”

Yennefer covers the distance between them in two long strides, placing her hands on the door either side of Tissaia’s shoulders, pressing against her, ghosting her lips across Tissaia’s, not close enough to touch but the air stirring between them making Tissaia gasp. Yennefer reaches down and locks the door then glides her hand from the doorknob to Tissaia’s chin and down to lightly encircle her throat,

“You would have me kiss you?”

“Yes” Tissaia breathes and leans up but is held back by the hand at her throat. Yennefer asks,

“And more? Am I to touch you?”

Tissaia groans, “Yes! Merciful God! Just do it before I die from wanting you!”

Yennefer smiles and releases her throat, cupping her jaw and bends to press their lips together. And if Tissaia mewls against her mouth, she has neither the wits nor the inclination to be embarrassed about it. Only parts her lips further so she can feel Yennefer’s tongue against hers and sighs in pleasure. A songbird’s tongue indeed.


End file.
